


Autumn

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demonic Possession, Haunted Houses, Jack being weird, M/M, Tim and Rhys being cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 12:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12607060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: A place for all of my fall-themed fics, as well as leftover Halloween prompts!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested Rhack with a haunted house, and this is what I came up with :)

“There’s no such things as  _ghosts_ , Fiona.”

Rhys had stated that, confidently, before he had followed her, Sasha, and Vaughn through the broken gate and into the old laboratory. But now, that he was on the floor, isolated from his friends and staring at dozens of broken monitors looming all round him like blank, watching eyes, he wasn’t so sure. 

Another sharp  _bang_  sounded through the room, Rhys’ scream drown out by the sudden, crawling crackle of feedback as every single one of the monitors, no matter how shattered or damaged suddenly lit up all at once. Rhys threw his arms up instinctively, another screech dying in his throat as the screens lit up with an eerie blue energy, as if every one had been electrocuted and forced to boot back up again by forces Rhys could barely wrap his brain around. 

He tried to crawl away, to get up and flee, but the sudden crackle of energy in the air made his limbs difficult to coordinate, his ears ringing and throwing off his balance. He again crashed to the floor, fearful drool stringing from his lips as a sudden, static laugh rent through the air and right into the meat of Rhys’ soul.

As the young man watched in horror, all of the monitors shattered, the rain of glowing shards swirling up together instead of dropping and scattering all over the filthy floor. Before Rhys’ eyes they pulled together, as if through magnetism, forming a stained-glass model in the shape that was undeniably human. 

Rhys babbled senselessly, his entire body paralyzed with fright as the ghost floated forward, arms out like they were impaled on a cross, position stiff. It hovered, still, for only a moment longer, before another laugh punctured Rhys’ ears, and the ghost broke free from its static form. Its lips grew in a sharp, demonic grin and its eyes flew open, shining a sick yellow down upon Rhys’ trembling form. 

“ _Finally_. Thanks a lot, kiddo. You’re my ticket outta this dump.”

Rhys hardly had time to scream as the ghost rushed at him, enveloping his body in a frightening cold grip before he blacked out completely. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a joke about Jack fucking a pumpkin and then well...someone wanted to see it happen!

“Jack, did you get the pie started, I wanted to—Jack what the fuck are you doing?!” Rhys shouted, nearly dropping the arms full of groceries as he stared at where his lover was standing. Smack dab in the middle of the kitchen, pants stuck around his ankles, and one of the culinary pumpkins that Rhys had bought for his fucking pie pressed up against his crotch.

Jack froze like a deer in the headlights, and not at all like a man who had been caught with his dick stuck in the carved hole of a pumpkin.

Rhys had enough conscience to set the bags of groceries down before he was flinging his hands over his eyes, the base of his palms scrubbing into his eyelids as if they could erase the image from his brain. But it was hard when he could still fucking hear the sound of Jack’s cock against the pumpkin’s pulpy innards as it pulled out.

“Kitten, wait, it’s not what it looks like—please, I was just bored, and you weren’t back yet, and I just wanted to see—“

“No! No way!” Rhys only lowered his hands when he was sure the ruined pumpkin had been placed back on the counter, but as Jack still didn’t have his pants up nor made any effort to….to clean himself off, Rhys still wanted him as far away as possible.

“Great, just great,” Rhys hissed, glaring disgusted daggers at Jack, “now I only have one pie for Janey and Athena’s party, all because my husband just had to fuck my pumpkin.”

“Babe.” Jack wilted, finally tucking his weirdly slimy dick back into his pants. Not that Rhys was going to be peppering his sorry ass with hugs and kisses any time soon.

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me, you’re banned from kitchen duty until I’m done,” Rhys snarled, shooing Jack away and banishing him to the couch where he crossed his arms and pouted as he watched TV. Rhys sighed, running an exasperated hand through his hair, before he dumped the ruined pumpkin straight into the garbage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And some Rhysothy fluff to cleanse your palate! :)

Tim hadn’t been to a pumpkin patch since he was a kid, and Rhys had  _never_  been to one. Considering how he’d mostly grown up in the suburbs, it wasn’t exactly surprising, but once Tim had seen Rhys’ confused glance upon mentioning some old childhood memories of face-painting and petting zoos.

“Don’t you just like….go and pick out a pumpkin?” Rhys had asked over breakfast, taking cursory sips out of his coffee before adding more dashes of spiced creamer.

“You  _do_ , I mean like  _eventually_ , but there are a lot of other things you can do in the mean time. I mean, most people wouldn’t drive an hour into the country  _just_  to get a pumpkin when they can pick one up at the store.”

Rhys shrugged.

“Guess you’re right….it sounds cute.” Rhys leaned over the small table to peck Timothy’s cheek.

“So, when are we going?”

* * *

The air was dry and crisp, smelling of straw and sugar as Tim and Rhys stepped out of their car and headed towards the rustic wooden fences surrounding the patch.

“Ooooh, I smell kettle corn,” Rhys gasped, threading their fingers together as Timothy tugged him eagerly beneath the festive banner and towards the array of small beige tents and scattered bales of hay serving as benches. It was a weekend, so the air was full of the laughter of happy children, especially from the large, bright-orange bounce-house wobbling right next to the pony petting zoo. Tim blushed at the down-home cheesiness of the whole affair, but to his pleasant surprise Rhys was entirely into it—in fact, he’d insisted on the both of them wearing matching brown and orange scarves patterned with little stylized pumpkins. Allegedly, Rhys bought them ages ago but had waited for the perfect opportunity to wear them, and Tim to his credit said nothing about the fresh clothing tags he’d found in the trash can that morning.

Rhys was clearly hungry from the car ride, as he practically pulled Timothy over to the kettle corn stand, soon cradling a massive bag in his arms like it was a small child. Timothy stole a couple of handfuls to Rhys’ quickly relenting chagrin, the couple crunching away nearly half the bag before it was tied up and stuffed inside Timothy’s backpack.

The many carnival games and activities that fanned out in a circle from a large centerpiece comprised of some of the largest pumpkins either of them had ever seen seemed corny and geared mostly towards the patch’s youngest attendees, but that didn’t stop Rhys from buying a stack of tickets and trying his hand at tossing bright orange rings at thick wooden dowels painted like pumpkin stems. After a couple of failed attempts and an increasingly pouty Rhys, Tim finally chuckled and took the last couple rings from his boyfriend, finally making one and earning Rhys a tiny little felt bat plush that the young man clutched happily as they roamed through the carnival.

* * *

“Make him a kitty cat, those are his favorites,” Rhys told the face-painter, his smile crinkling the bright orange and red leaves that had been brushed with flowery grace along his cheek. Tim squirmed in the shoddy plastic chair, blushing as the painter began to stroke black and white paint over his face, giving him a cute pair of whiskers and a tiny pink nose. Rhys giggled, quickly pulling out his phone to take a picture, much to Timothy’s dismay.

“You should’ve just taken a picture when she was done,” Timothy whined once he’d gotten up, but Rhys was already throwing an arm about his boyfriend’s shoulder and aiming his camera downwards, ensuring both of their makeup was visible.

“Shhh, I know, which is why I’m getting one now….say ‘meow’!” Rhys joked as he snapped a couple pictures of them together, Timothy’s embarrassed lips quickly quirking up into a happy smile.

* * *

As the sun began to creepy towards the shadowy tops of the trees, the two men finally decided to venture beyond the cluster of tents and activities and out into the pumpkin patch proper. The grounds continued as far as Timothy could see, every inch practically dotted with pumpkins of all kinds of shapes and sizes. The young man took a deep, pleased breath, intaking the cool of the afternoon air as he trudged after Rhys, looking for the perfect pick.

There were white pumpkins, red pumpkins, and even weird, blue-green pumpkins that Tim had never seen before, but his heart had already been set on a classic, orange one before they’d even come to the pumpkin patch. He finally found one specimen—perfectly smooth and round with little bumps or cuts, when he heard Rhys call off in the distance.

“Tim! Tim, come here, I found the perfect one!”

Tim thumped through the patch, careful not to step on any pumpkins or errant vine until he approached a grinning Rhys, who was holding out a pumpkin….a pumpkin completely covered in gnarly bumps and lumps. Tim stared.

“Rhys….what kind of a pumpkin is that?”

“It’s you!” Rhys beamed. “It’s got spots just like you do…I mean like….your freckles.” Rhys pointed at his own face.

“Guess….this one is you then?” Tim raised his own pumpkin. “Cause it’s all like….smooth.”

“Heh. You always give me the best compliments.” Rhys rested the pumpkin against his hip. “So….guess we’re getting two of them.”

“Well, I figured, since there’s two of us wanting to carve one but….yes. Two perfect pumpkins.” Tim leaned in close, kissing Rhys on the lips.

“The perfect pair.”


End file.
